


Soon comes tomorrow again

by brunettelovegood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hogwarts, M/M, Nightmares, Post-War, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunettelovegood/pseuds/brunettelovegood
Summary: “Er, I’m going back to bed, ok? You’re ok now, right?”Potter hesitated. Then did something that had Draco almost running back to his bed, because his stomach was doing silly things he did not know how to deal with, especially in the middle of the night, sitting on Potter’s bed.Potter blushed. He blushed.“Well… You could stay here, you know…”The way Potter was intently avoiding his eyes confirmed the meaning of the words Draco was struggling to make sense. But he didn’t believe them.“Wha-at?”





	Soon comes tomorrow again

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is my first fic ever and English is not my first language. Also, I don’t have a beta (but would love to <3). So please let me know if there are any mistakes! I hope you like it =)

**Soon comes tomorrow again**

 

Draco thought his situation couldn’t get any worse.

He was wrong, of course.

He believed his luck had ended on his trials, when he was excused from Azkaban and sentenced to only help with Hogwarts restorations. The following week, when his father was not only sent to a lifetime in Azkaban, but also to have his patrimony confiscated by the Wizengamot, Draco realized that getting back on his feet after his work at Hogwarts would be rather difficult. But when his mother was sentenced with exile for the unforeseeable future, he got desperate. He could not leave Britain, afterwards.

During the day, he worked. During the nights, he cried and cried, drying his eyes out thinking how he’d survive alone, with no money, no connections, and worse, no reputation left.

He was ready for another night of crying in his dorms when he found out he had a new roommate.

Harry bloody Potter. Spread out on a bed, reading a bloody Quidditch book like he hadn’t a fucking problem in the world.

It wasn’t that Draco still hated Potter. It was difficult to hate the guy who was the reason why you weren’t losing your mind in a cell. Potter had testified on his behalf and his mother’s, and his words and presence had guaranteed lighter sentences.

The hate had gone and been replaced by shame. Shame of being in the wrong side, of making the wrong choices. He couldn’t make himself to be angry. Like his home, his power, and his parents, it was all gone.

And with all that gone, Draco could finally look at the boy he met in a shop when he was eleven years old and allow himself to feel what he had buried in the most deep part of his heart after his friendship had been refused – he had a giant crush on Potter.

Who was his new roommate.

In the two weeks Draco had been working at Hogwarts, he didn’t have any roommates. He was aware none of the volunteers wanted to be anywhere near him, obviously. Also, there wasn’t many of them – few people were ready to face the end of the war from so up close. There were plenty of dorms available to allow people to stay away from Draco.

Which was excellent, because he had all that crying to put out of him and he definitely preferred to do it alone. And seeing Potter, discovering once again all his feelings for him, but having them mixed up with shame now, was certainly a guarantee to a massive crying session.

So Draco got angry for the first time in Merlin knows when.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Potter was lying down on the bed that wasn’t Draco’s, looking surprisedly unconcerned at seeing his former enemy.

“McGonagall thinks you’d do well with a roommate. She sent me here,” said Potter, and resumed his reading.

_What the fuck_. It took Draco a second to remember his encounter with the Headmistress that morning, when the first thing she asked wasn’t his progress on the North Tower, but if he was all right. His bloody bloodshot eyes. From his morning crying. Fucking perfect.

Draco signed, resigned. He wasn’t about to spend the energy he didn’t possess fighting this. It was easier to use a Silencing Spell, or find another place to cry.

He got ready to bed and went to sleep. He and Potter didn’t say another word.

***

Besides for meals, he didn’t see Potter during the next day. The work on the North Tower wasn’t even close to be finished. It was a delicate but dull work, and Draco needed all his focus on the task so no rocks (or entire walls) would fall on his head—especially with the wand he had now. He was tired and one crying session late to achieve a stable state, since the previous night he hadn’t been certain a Silencing Spell would be enough. But tonight, he had a plan. He’d wait to be sure Potter was asleep, cast the spell, and finally let it go.

Not that Potter would make it easy for him.

“So, Malfoy, I didn’t see you today. In which part of the castle are you working on?” Oh, Merlin. Potter wanted to talk.

When you’ve no one to talk to anymore, having a conversation is hard. When you’re not used to talk anymore _and_ are trying really hard to not start crying as soon as you open your mouth, the hardship goes to way another level.

Draco pretended to organize some clothes, trying to discreetly give deep breaths until he could trust his voice again.

“North Tower,” the relief of saying just that two words in a normal and not strangled voice was so strong it was ridiculous. But Draco would take all the small victories he could get.

“Oh, I’m on the greenhouses. It’s warm, so we had a good time.”

Draco nodded. He couldn’t do anything else. Potter was not only working outside, but he had help. Of course.

“Who is on your team?,” asked Potter.

_Deep breath, deep breath._

“I’m my team, Potter,” this time Draco was betrayed by his voice. But it sounded more angrier than miserable, so he’d considered it a half-win.

“Oh.”

He wasn’t looking at Potter. He continued to fold and unfold and fold again the clothes on his trunk, back turned to Potter, who, unfortunately, hadn’t give up yet.

“How is your mother?”

Potter seemed genuinely concerned, what just got Draco even more nervous. He dropped the pile of folded clothes he was carefully putting back on his truck.

“In France. Why, Potter, why do you bother so much with talking to me?” And here it was. The strangled voice in all his not so much glory. Draco was facing Potter now, a reflex movement he didn’t remember doing.

Potter was startled. And then angry.

“Look, a lot has happened last year. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see you as just an arrogant prat anymore. I was just trying to have a good start with you for a change. I guess I was wrong. I’ll leave you alone.” Potter turned to get his book, and Draco shoved his clothes in his trunk, got to his bed, and closed its curtains as fast as he could.

_Deep breath, deep breath._

Draco laid down on the bed. He was still trying to calm down when one tear started to slide down his cheek. What the hell was wrong with him? The first person to engage a social conversation with him in weeks and he drove them away in minutes. And this time he couldn’t just blame bad luck, or a series of unfortunate events. He had just done it. He had put himself in a more miserable situation.

And then he realized. He had done it and he could _fix it_. It’d demand a serious effort and would certainly be a disaster. But he had to at least try it.

He opened his curtains and was gathering courage in a breath, ready to spill it out. But Potter’s curtains were already closed.

He considered waiting until next morning, but he was kind of sick of feeling he did everything wrong.

“Potter?”

A muffled sound, and then the curtains were opened.

“What?”

Draco signed. “I’m sorry. I’m willing to engage in conversation, but not about my mother. Or my father.” He drop his gaze from Potter’s, and realized he was fidgeting with a tip of his blanket.

“Well, ok. I’m sorry to mention your mother, it was stupid of me. I just wanted to keep talking.”

Draco looked at him. His voice wasn’t angry anymore, and for some reason, Potter seemed nervous. That made no sense.

“Why? Don’t you hate me?”

Potter chuckled. “I thought I did. But, I don’t know, after all we’ve been through, I’m kind of tired of hating you? I’m tired of lots of things.” He signed, crooked a smile, and waited for Draco’s reaction.

Draco was stunned. He couldn’t really put his finger on what, exactly, was so surprising besides Potter’s general behavior. Definitely not what he expected.

“Ok…I…Ok. I don’t hate you either.” The words were out before Draco was aware of their meaning, and their truth. But the smile Potter gave him was totally worth the spontaneity.

“Good. That’s a start, then.”

Potter was smiling at him. Shining green eyes and a fucking smile. Draco could _not_ handle it.

“Ok, so, I’m… kind of tired, so… Good conversation. Good night, Potter.”

Potter, the bastard, laughed.

“Yeah, good conversation, Malfoy. Good night to you too.”

Draco closed his curtains. He didn’t understand what had just happened, really. But there wouldn’t be a crying session that night.

***

There was a loud thud somewhere.

Draco woke up disoriented. He pushed his curtains open and peeked at the other side of the room. Nothing. All was quiet.

But suddenly Potter’s curtains moved slightly, like a hand or a foot had punched the brown fabric.

Oh, Merlin. Was Potter with someone in there? Merlin, Draco could not have a fucking break. But something was off. Potter’s behavior earlier made Draco believe that was not the case right now.

He got up and slowly walked towards Potter’s bed. When he got closer, he found out the Quidditch book on the floor. Probably the thud culprit. He carefully pushed the bed curtains to the side and almost had a heart attack.

At first, he couldn’t understand why Potter’s mouth and body were moving like that. Then his brain registered the sound. The room was filled with screaming, the Silencing Spell broken. Potter was screaming. Potter was having a nightmare bad enough that his body was squirming and twisting, almost kicking Draco on his abdomen.

What was he supposed to do?

Wake up Potter. That was obvious.

But how?

He tried to call him, hesitantly poking the other boy’s shoulder. However, when that wasn’t enough, even when he was almost screaming over Potter, Draco took Potter by both shoulders and shook him.

“Potter! Potter! Harry…”

Scared green eyes were facing him. Potter was awake, and crying.

“It was just a dream, Potter. You were sleeping, it’s over now.”

“No, no! They are all dead, I’ve killed them all… it was my fault…”

It wasn’t a dream, then.

He was now clutching Draco’s pajamas, sobbing and leaning on him.

“Potter, you saved so many. Think about everybody that is alive because of you.”

“No, no. Fred is dead, and Dobby, Tonks and Lupin… Oh, Merlin, Teddy is never gonna forgive me…,” he kept saying names, shaking his head miserably.

“No, Potter, you didn’t kill them. It was the Dark Lord, and that bunch of lunatics, it wasn’t you. Think about Granger, and Weasley, and the Weaslette, Lovegood, all your Gryffindors.”

Potter looked at him, still crying, but now he was listening to Draco, calming down. So Draco kept going, saying name after name, until Potter’s tears ceased.

“Hagrid, McGonagall, Longbottom, Finnigan…” He realized Potter had stopped crying and was just breathing quietly now. “Are you feeling better?”

Potter’s sad eyes were staring at his. “Yeah, thanks. Sometimes it’s just… too much, you know?”

“Yes, I know, I really do.” Draco so knew it. He gave Potter a sad smile. “Don’t take me wrong, but I kind of feel better that I’m not alone knowing this.”

Potter smiled back.

“Yeah, it sucks to be alone.”

And Potter kept staring at him, the silencing a bit longer than it should be.

Draco cleaned his throat.

 “Er, I’m going back to bed, ok? You’re ok now, right?”

Potter hesitated. Then did something that had Draco almost running back to his bed, because his stomach was doing silly things he did not know how to deal with, especially in the middle of the night, _sitting on Potter’s bed_.

Potter blushed. He _blushed._

“Well… You could stay here, you know…”

The way Potter was intently avoiding his eyes confirmed the meaning of the words Draco was struggling to make sense. But he didn’t believe them.

“Wha-at?”

“Look, no one will know, please! Usually when someone wakes me up, I come back to the nightmares when I go back to sleep. It’s terrible. And I can’t take the sleeping draughts anymore. I’ve drunk them too much, they have no effect on me. And… you really calmed me down… It’s just for tonight, I can engorge the bed if you want to… Please, stay.”

Draco was stunned. He couldn’t believe that Harry Potter was asking – _begging_ – him to sleep in the same bed with him. Because he was afraid. He knew this was a terrible idea. That’d do no good to Draco’s platonic crush, not to mention the certain regret Potter would feel in the morning, when his nightmares were far away.

But then, how could Draco say no to the pleading green eyes facing him, threatening to be filled with more tears? Also, Draco really _really_ wanted to do it.

“Ok.” He said, his voice was weak, but he didn’t mind it for a second.

“Ok?” Potter was surprised, as he was ready for Draco deny his request. “Ok. Ok.” He was suddenly nervous, but pushed to the side to make space for Draco.

Draco was nervous too. He swallowed, and laid on the bed.

He wasn’t inches from Potter. He was _touching_ him. His left arm was touching Potter’s right, and somewhere at the end of the bed his knees and calves were too. Draco faced the ceiling, feeling the awkwardness in every cell.

“Thanks for doing this,” said Potter with a half-smile. “Good night, Draco.”

And just like that, like he hadn’t broken a lifetime of calling him by his last name, Potter turned to the other side, a gaping Draco facing the back of his neck.

When he recovered and remembered to answer, Potter was already asleep.

***

Draco woke up the next morning a bit disoriented, with the weight of a hand over his hips.

Well, that was definitely new.

Then, the night events came back to him. He opened his eyes in the hopes his surroundings would prove it all to be just a dream, but instead he saw himself facing a sleeping Harry Potter. Because it was definitely Potter – his glasses could be absent, but his lightning scar and mess of a hair would never be.

He had slept with Harry Potter. _Oh, Merlin._

Among his shock, Draco wasn’t sure about what to do – run as fast and silent as he could, or touch Potter’s disheveled hair. The doubt paralyzed him for so long his companion was now waking up.

As soon as the fear of possibility of Potter not remembering what had happened crossed Draco’s mind, green eyes were facing his, along with a small smile.

“God, I don’t remember the last time I slept so well,” and Potter seemed truly amazed by the fact.

Draco’s paralysis finally ended, and he jumped the bed.

“Good to know I was of help, Potter,” he tried to use an indifferent and sarcastic tone, but wasn’t so sure of his success. He busied himself gathering his clothes for the day, avoiding Potter at any costs.

“Was it too weird for you? Did you sleep well?”

Draco stopped. His eyes weren’t burning, his head wasn’t killing him. He did not want to cry. He felt rested.

“Yes, I guess so.” Fuck, he sounded genuine. Spontaneity was a bitch.

“Really?” Potter was sitting on his bed, more excited than he should be, in Draco’s opinion. “Do you think you mind… er, sleeping together again tonight?”

Draco turned to face him. He had to check it wasn’t a joke. But there was no mischief in Potter’s eyes. And Potter sucked at lying. Bloody Gryffindor. “Ok.”

“Great!” Potter’s smile was blinding, and his relief was a bit confusing. He got ready for breakfast and said, “We have and arrangement, then.”

Before Draco could recovered from the happiness that exhaled Potter, he was gone.

 ***

With the promise of their sleeping arrangements, the day dragged itself out. They didn’t talk during the day. Draco had barely seen Potter, actually. It was very annoying, but after thinking that he shouldn’t worry, because he’d be next to Potter literally for hours during the night, Draco tried hard to not think why this was bothering him so much, and why _sleeping with Potter_ should calm him down.

He did not think about that. And he did not calm down.

He was ready to face Potter, to confront him about where he was all day, even if it didn’t make any sense. He slammed their room’s door open, ready for a very unreasonable fight, when a wave of warm hit his face and a shirtless Potter melt his mind.

“I know! I know! It’s fucking hot in here. I’ve talked to McGonagall already. Apparently, they were working on this floor this afternoon, and it affected the room next to ours. The chandelier became a fountain, there was water everywhere, then

they tried to just transfigured it back, but apparently it’s a tricky status charm. It became steam! Now it’s like this super powerful sauna in there! I’ll probably last just some hours, but if not they’ll work on it tomorrow.”

Potter was working desperately on Chilling Charms around his own bed. Draco didn’t know how to answer. He’d blame the increasing sweat this time, but he knew it was Potter. It was like Potter was always saying things that activated a Petrificus Totalus on Draco’s body – and mind. He stood there, glaring at Potter’s bed and Potter’s bared chest, and couldn’t imagine that these two would be in the same equation as Draco himself, ever.

He wasn’t sure he should treat it as bad or good luck.

Potter saw him staring at the bed and took his new lack of answer in the wrong way.

“I’ll engorge the bed! I’m working on putting this Chilling Charms up, but the engorging is the next step! I really don’t think we’ll be able to sleep with our clothes, er… our shirts on, but–”

“A Malfoy never sleeps shirtless or naked, Potter! It’s not adequate!” This thing of spending too much time without talking to people had definitely ruined Draco’s communicative skills.

“Like… never? I mean, isn’t the sex awkward?” Maybe Potter’s communicative skills weren’t that better, because he seemed mortified. He had stopped moving around, and seemed to be looking for a place to hide. “Ok, forget I said that. I… You sleep as you prefer, of course, I’m sorry to assume… er… It’s just that I’m almost taking off my pan…” Draco gasped, and he shut his mouth, getting even more embarrassed. “Oh, shit, Malfoy! It’s just that I was really hoping for a good night of sleep! Please, don’t bail out because of this.”

For the second time, Potter was begging Draco to sleep with him. Maybe it was good luck, after all. To be honest, Draco could get used to it.

“Ok. We had an agreement, so nothing changes. I see you have done the adequate arrangements for our sleeping. If you excuse me, I’ll have a shower to try appeasing the swea– situation.” Pleased with himself, he run for the showers for more reasons he could admit.

When he returned, already sweating under his pajamas, Potter was laying on the engorgioed bed, wearing only his boxers.

Wearing _only_ his boxers.

Draco was still frozen at the bathroom door when the other boy spoke.

“Believe me, there is no other way,” he sounded tired and a bit annoyed. Potter turned heavily to the wall. Surely the heat was affecting him.

Draco breathed deep and went towards the bed. He could do this. He would turn in the direction opposite to Potter, and any potential problem would be hidden. Unfortunately, after minutes of discomfort turning side to side, he got the heat annoyance as well.

“I told you, there is no other way…” Potter voice in the dark came as a deadly, but unavoidable, fate. Because he was fucking right.

“I’ll personally supervise this fixing tomorrow. There is no way we can sleep two nights like this!”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“What did you call me? Oh, Merlin, now he is hallucinating!”

“Calm down, I’m fine. It's just a Muggle thing. Let's just go back to sleep.”

“There's no go back if you have never been there.” But Potter didn't answer him. Draco braced the fact it had come the time to take his clothes off. He did so, but now he was too nervous to sleep.

“Your Chilling Charms suck, Potter.”

“I'm aware, but I don't see you moving your ass to do something about it, so I assume I'm better than you.”

Draco snorted. The sad thing was that, in his current wand situation, it was the truth.

“Well, I used to be good at them, but… it doesn't matter now.” These were waters he didn't want to sail almost naked sharing a bed with Potter. “What about this Sherlock you called me?”

“I told you, it's a Muggle thing. Nothing you would care about.”

“Excuse me, but I do care about.”

Potter turned to face the ceiling, now side by side with Draco.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! After hearing something about a tevelision, I realized Muggles are sort of mysterious. I'm intrigued.”

After seconds waiting for this confession to sink in, Potter laughed. Unashamedly.

“What now, Potter? What's so funny? Can't I change my mind? Can't I try to understand? I thought that was what you wanted.”

This seemed to silence Potter as he asked, “Are you trying to change because you think that's what I want?”

“That's not the point,” Draco hurried to clarify, as indifferent as possible. “Forget about it. Maybe I should sleep on my own bed–”

“No! I'm sorry! Please, stay here. I wasn't laughing at you wanting to change. It's just that you said television wrong, and it’s kind of adorabl– funny! It was really funny, sorry…”

“Hum… television then. Ok, I’ll stay, but stop changing the subject and talk about this Sherlock thing of yours.”

And that was how Draco got to know Sherlock Holmes was the Muggle version of Inquisitive Indigo, the main character of the books he read since he was ten, and he and Potter initiated a passionate but friendly discussion about which character had come first. They didn’t get any close to a resolution, but their tiredness led them into a peaceful sleep.

***

It was peaceful until Draco woke up freezing. Next to him, Potter was still asleep, but shaking and recoiled in fetal position.

“P-Potter, P-Potter” Draco tried to wake him up, poking his arm. “The c-charm has c-changed.”

Potter blinked, and slowly became fully aware of his surroundings. Then he sat in a jump, “Shit, shit! It’s fucking freezing in here!”, and before Draco could be the one to proudly say ‘No shit, Sherlock’ this time, Potter wandlessly summoned several blankets that hit both of them in the face. Instantly, they spread the blankets over themselves, including their heads, and Potter cast warming spells.

“That was really badass, Potter, I have to admit, but by Merlin’s tits, why you didn’t summon our clothes as well?”

“Oh, pardon me, Malfoy, for not thinking about every single thing seconds after waking up with my balls freezing!”

“Well, do it now, then.”

“No fucking hell I’m putting even a finger out of this blanket.”

“My wand is at the bedside table, I’ll have to put my whole arm out!”

“So let’s stay like this! Just shut up and turn around, I’ll spoon you.”

It was dark under the blankets and Draco wasn’t sure if Potter was serious or being a prick.

“Do you want to spoon me when we are wearing only boxers?” he ended up asking, incredulously.

“I was basically spooning you this morning, anyways. Besides, I’m still cold and I can feel you shaking. Scared, Malfoy?”

Draco snorted, but turned around. As if he wouldn’t. Pff.

“What your Weasley girlfriend will think about you spooning me so frequently?”

“First, I don’t intend to tell her, and second, she is not my girlfriend anymore.”

Draco’s surprise was shortly shadowed by the warm of Potter’s body. His left arm was involving Draco’s hip, and his breath was hot in Draco’s nape.

“Hum… and who is your girlfriend then?”

Potter snorted. “Why do you assume I have a girlfriend?”

“You are the saviour of the wizarding world. Of course you have a girlfriend.”

Potter seemed to consider it for a second. “Let me rephrase it. Why do you assume I would want to go out with a _girl_?”

Draco was well aware that emphasis was a powerful tool in communication, but its usage had never ever given him so much hope.

“It’s just… well, you have dated girls before, right? I didn’t know there was any other possibility to be assumed.”

“Well, actually I’m bi, but I wanted to make clear that… er... right now I’m more interested in blokes.”

Potter was tense behind Draco, as he was holding his breath for something. Draco wondered how many people knew about his confession. It could not be many, otherwise the Prophet would have exploded in its own venom.

“Do you want me to turn around?” Potter asked a bit tentatively, since Draco said nothing, and lifted his arm very gently.

“No, that’s fine. I don’t have a problem with that, really.” Draco hurried to answered, realizing Potter had understood his silence by prejudice instead of… well.

“I thought you purebloods would be all about preserving the bloodline purity and the importance of procreation and all that.”

“Well,” Draco said, deciding that if he was really cuddling in a bed wearing only boxers beside a Harry Potter confessing he liked blokes, he should be dreaming or else, and his luck should definitely be abused, “purebloods are all about that, you are right. But as I said before, I’m trying to change. And it’s really easy for me to disregard pureblood believes on this topic since, hum, I like blokes too. And only blokes, mind me.”

Draco held his breath. Dream or reality, Potter would be always unpredictable, he was sure of it.

What he didn’t expect was silence. Potter’s hand was now resting gently on his hip, and his forehead seemed to be on Draco’s nape. After what seemed hours, he finally said softly:

“Ok, good to know. Good night, Draco.”

Draco was certain there was a smile on Potter’s voice.

***

The next morning, the room’s temperature was normal again. That meant they woke up sweating and throwing the three heavy blankets they had hidden themselves under as far as they could. That had really ruined the very pleasant feeling of waking up tightly embraced by Potter, in Draco’s opinion. Then he realized it had not be a dream after all.

Draco also learned Potter could _indeed_ be very unpredictable.

After their late night confessions in the dark and coziness of blankets, Potter’s behavior got pretty weird. Every time Draco tried to ask Potter if there was any special reason for him to be more interested in blokes at the moment, Potter would mumble something incoherent, blush slightly, and avoid Draco’s eyes at all costs, melting Draco’s hope.

Fortunately, they continued sharing Potter’s bed. And was during the night that Draco’s hope reborn.

Because all Potter couldn’t say with words, he tried to say while spooning Draco at night. He held Draco more boldly, as he had a purpose. Sometimes his fingers would trace little circles on Draco’s hip, and then Draco would focus on the movement and fall into a peaceful sleep. And at least once, when Draco was almost in dreamland, he’d swear he felt soft lips on his nape.

But today Draco was going to turn the table – or the bed, in their case.

When Draco got to their dorm, instead of trying to engage Potter in some kind of conversation as usual, he said nothing until he was ready to go to bed.

“Can I spoon you today?”

It was a bold move, Draco was aware. There was always the possibility that Potter was going to evade him, as he had done on Draco’s previous attempts. But something told Draco that their sleeping arrangements _per se_ were actually a safe topic.

He was right.

“Yeah, that’d be nice, I guess.” Potter answered with a crooked smile.

They got under the blankets. Draco turned to the left for the first time in days. Potter hadn’t turn yet.

“Hi,” he said, unglassed green eyes shining to Draco.

“Hey,” he manage to reply, but he couldn’t smile like Potter. He was too scary with the storm his heart was making at the moment.

Still smiling softly, Potter turned. Draco breathed deeply and spooned him.

At first, he was struck with the intensity of Potter’s scent, which found his nose as a magnet. Then, the sense of familiarity overcame him. Was he so used to be close to Potter’s body that he felt more comfortable than extremely nervous?

No, his mind was spinning right now, of course he was still deadly nervous.

So it was _déjà vu_.

And then it hit him.

He held Potter tightly with all his body, repressing a cry and inhaling deeply.

But it wasn’t ashes and burning that he scent. It was soap, shampoo, safety. Potter.

“Malfoy, are you ok?”

“Yeah…” Why he was a little breathless? “It’s just… I don’t hug you like that since the Fyendfire. Not really a good memory.”

Potter was silent for a second. Then he caught Draco’s hand and moved it from his hip to his heart.

“Let’s make a new memory, then.”

That was too much for Draco. He gave up and just buried his face between Potter’s scapulas. It was a right fit.

“Hey, hey, that’s ok, we’re here now. We’re here.” Potter caressed his hand, holding it tighter, because maybe Draco was crying again. Just a little bit. “We’re alive. We’re gonna be fine. Everything is fine now.”

“Nothing is fine, Potter! I have nothing! No money, no home, no family, no reputation left! Nothing! I barely have a wand, for Merlin’s sake!”

Potter turned to face him, his hand on Draco’s shoulder now.

“What’s wrong with your wand?”

After spilling all the torments he was trying so hard to hide and forget, Draco blinked with the question. That was the problem he tried to avoid the most.

“It’s not mine… I don’t wanna use it… but I have to, to work on the reparations… It’s… Autie Bella’s…”

Then was Potter turn to gasp and forget what to do next.

“It killed… it killed…”

“Sirius. I know, she couldn’t stopping bragging about it. And about all the other maniac craziness she did with it. I feel disgusting using it, but it’s what the Ministry could give me now.”

Potter was staring right into his eyes, his face blank. Draco was actually relieved that his look wasn’t of pity. I calmed him down a little.

“But you are right, we’re here, we’re alive. I know I’ll sort these out, but I also know I’ll have some breakdowns until I get there. I’m sorry to bother you with this.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Draco. We’re here means I’m here with you.” And saying that, Potter’s finger cleaned the remaining tears from Draco’s cheek. It lingered there just a bit longer than it had to. “Besides, it’s not as I don’t have a bunch of problems too. They want me to become an Auror, to give autographs, speeches, to tell everyone over and over again the same bullshit that now the war is over all our problems will vanish or something. And then, when I go to sleep, I keep dreaming  about all the shit that happened so I could live. And you know what I’m doing now, with this _life_? I’m hiding here. Of course I want to rebuild Hogwarts, see it up and running again, but at the moment I just wanna be somewhere I can have some space to learn who the fuck I’m now. And being with you is the closest I got so far.” He paused, maybe expecting some reaction from Draco, but his companion was paralyzed. “Of course, I understand that you have a lot going on right now, and I can ask McGonagall to change rooms…”

“Don’t be stupid, Potter.” Draco tried to give his best smirk from their old days. Potter laughed a bit, so maybe he got something right.

“Ok. It was actually kind of good to talk about it. Since Ron and Hermione went to Australia to find Hermione’s parents it’s been hard to talk to people.”

“Since sixth year it’s hard to talk to people, Potter.” He joked. “Since we’re talking now… Do you have a problem with me liking blokes? Because it’s really confusing that you apparently can’t talk about it, but, well, here we are.” And he caressed Potter’s hip in case it wasn’t pretty obvious what he was on about.

Potter start yawning and turning to the other side, but Draco held him.

“Potter, please, say something. I can’t… I can’t lose this as well, whatever this is.”

Potter considered this and was back to stare at him.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m not really ready to talk about it, but just trust me that you are not losing this, ok? I promise.”

“Ok,” Draco said, because all he could see in his eyes was a true desire to keep this promise.

“Thanks. Let’s sleep now. Maybe tomorrow we’ll all know better.” And with a last earnest smile, Potter turned to be spooned. “Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Potter.”

He didn’t wait Potter was asleep to softly kiss his nape.

***

Of course when Draco woke up next morning, Potter was gone. It was Saturday, so it made sense that people who didn’t have to serve a specific sentence (meaning everyone else) would rather be somewhere else than the castle. But once again Draco had allowed night confessions to feed dangerous expectations.

He didn’t work the whole day on the weekends, so after lunch his mind rambled. Usually, even if he didn’t see Harry during work, he’d get a glimpse of him during meals. But he wasn’t at breakfast, nor at lunch. Draco was afraid he wouldn’t be sleeping in the castle at all.

He remembered the Draco from days ago, who was desperate to have a room for himself just so he could cry alone. That wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

It was good to realize it. Maybe his crying days were gone. Of course, he’d still cry, but he hoped he would never call it ‘crying sessions’ ever again. Even if Potter didn’t show up, he believed he wasn’t going to cry today. He had changed somehow.

He didn’t know what was happening between him and Potter. But right know not knowing it was what gave him hope. He had transformed all the anxiety of his unstable future into a source of hope. He was extremely proud of himself, and also terrified of being naive.

At the end, Potter actually didn’t show up.

Draco laid down on his own bed for the first time in days. It was cold and lonely. The solitude stroke him like a hex, but he didn’t falter. He decided that if in only ten days or so Potter could invade his life, sleep and cuddle with him, anything was possible. The instability of the future could be at his side. But perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if he pushed it just a bit onto the right direction. So he took parchment and quill, and started planning.

The next morning, he woke up determined to put his life back on the right floo network. Or at least on the direction to have a floo. He reviewed his notes and went straight to talk to McGonagall after breakfast. Since apparently it had all started because she had cared about him in the first place.

“Good morning, Headmistress.”

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. I have to say, I cannot allow you to work on Sundays too. I understand you want to finish your obligations as soon as possible, but that would be too much. You need to rest as well.”

“Oh, I understand, Headmistress. I’m not here to ask for work. I mean, I’m, but not _this_ work precisely.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand you, Mr. Malfoy. Please sit down and enlighten me.”

Draco sat and started talking.

“I’m sure you are aware, professor, of my current financial situation.”

“I’m aware that the Ministry has confiscated the Manor and the Malfoy vaults at Gringotts.”

“That’s correct. Which means I don’t have a place to live or any means of paying for one. Which means I need a job. And people who would hire me.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m sorry, but there is no vacant position at the school at the moment, I–”

“Oh, no, professor. I’m not asking for a job here. In fact, I came to the conclusion that I hardly will find a position in the Wizarding World. I’m here to ask if you could allow me to live in the castle until I find a job in the Muggle world. And also if you could recommend some books on Muggles, that would be wonderful. I don’t really know where to begin.”

Professor McGonagall stared at him, her face blank. Then she opened her mouth, but, not knowing what to say, closed it again. She signed and finally said, “Have a biscuit, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco accepted it, surprised. She kept looking at him, her mouth thin as a line, as if considering him himself instead of his proposition.

“Mr. Malfoy, I want you to know that I’m very satisfied with your work on the reparations. Your posture and determination have showed me the Winzengamont decision was the right one. You have certainly changed.”

“Thank you, professor. I’m very pleased to hear it.” Draco said, swallowing the biscuit in surprise.

“I comprehend why you would consider a position in the Wizarding World hard to obtain at the moment, although I’m not certain you wouldn’t find one. I believe is wise of you to seek information on Muggles, since you didn’t take the subjects during your time at Hogwarts,” she paused to sigh, her lips disappearing completely now. Draco shrunk on his chair a bit. “I’ll prepare a list of basic reading along with some brochures for wizards who want to attend Muggle universities. You might considered it an option in the future.”

“Thanks, professor. That’d be incredibly helpful. Hum… What’s a university?”

Surprisingly, McGonagall smile a little. Apparently, his lack of Muggle knowledge was universally funny.

“You’ll find this information on your first reading, I’ll make sure of it. Regarding your other request…” Draco held his breath as the Headmistress pause seem to never end. “I believe it can be arranged.”

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It felt like he didn’t have a Hippogryph on his shoulders anymore. Ok, maybe just a baby Hippogryph.

“Thank you, professor. I don’t know how to thank you enough for this.”

McGonagall stood up and walked to open the door.

“There is nothing to thank me for. Just go out there and have a good life, Mr. Malfoy.”

***

Feeling one-step closer to actually have some perspective, Draco allowed himself to spend the afternoon reading by the lake, and trying his best to not think about a certain Gryffindor. It wasn’t easy, but he succeed beyond his expectations.

He was leaving the Great Hall after supper when he heard someone calling his name.

Potter. He was running from the entrance towards Draco, who was too surprised to remember he was mad at him and keep walking.

“So glad I found you so fast! I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, really, Potter? Now do you want to talk?”

“Yes! Of course. You have ate already, right? I have, so… can we go to our room?” He held Draco’s hand and pushed him to start walking. “I’m exhausted. I can’t handle talking to people right now, Jesus.”

“And what am I? A Grindylow?”

Potter snorted.

“You know you’re too pretty to be compared to a Grindylow, Draco.”

Blushing and not even trying to stop Potter from dragging him, Draco kept walking.

When they got to their room, Potter sat on his own bed and patted the blanket by his side. Draco sat there, trying his best to show his displease.

“Look, I know you must be mad I disappeared–”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Humm… thanks? The thing is I woke up early yesterday, and I had to do this thing, you know? And I though the earlier I got there, the earlier I’d be back. But Andromeda was so tired, I had to–”

“Andromeda? Andromeda Tonks?”

“Oh, yes. Yes. God, I’m so tired, I’m making no sense, right?” Potter was talking fast and seemed a bit too happy and sleepy at the same time. “So you know I’m Teddy’s godfather? Teddy, Andromeda’s grandson? Well, I’m, and I wanna be a good godfather, you know? Be there for him and all that. So I have been at Andromeda’s as much as I can lately, and I know she is your aunt, so I asked–”

“Potter, mother and Aunt Andromeda haven’t speak in years, I don’t even know her!”

“But she wants to meet you. I told her you’ve changed, and that you need a hand to start your life again. And she agreed to let you live with her for a while. She didn’t say anything, but please, if you could help her with Ted–”

“You’ve asked her if I could life with her? You have asked a woman I’ve never met if I could live with her _without asking me_?”

Potter blushed. That seemed to finally have shut his mouth.

“Err… Yes?”

“Merlin, Potter! Can’t you not save everyone all the time? What’s wrong with you?”

“Many things, believe me.” Potter didn’t look happy anymore. Draco was surprised to realize he didn’t like a sad Potter. “But she said yes, so it’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Draco decided he wanted to see Potter happy as much as he could, even if he kept putting his nose in Draco’s business. “Actually, I talked to McGonagall today and she said I probably could stay here for a bit longer. But it might be good to get to know an aunt that is not a maniac. And if she needs help… She knows about Muggles, right? She can help me too.”

Potter blinked. “She can help you with Muggles?”

Draco told him his plan to try to get a job in the Muggle world. As he was telling, Potter’s eyes were getting brighter and brighter, and he was staring at Draco as if he was the most amazing broom ever invented. It was rather uncomfortable.

“I never thought I’d say that, but I’m really happy to see your Slytherin side shining again. Count with me to whatever you need. I know about Muggles, too.”

“Thanks.”

Potter was blushing and staring at Draco as if lost in thought, and Draco felt himself starting to blush too. He cleaned his throat so they could remember how to function properly.

“So that’s what you were doing for almost two days.”

“Yeah, Teddy had a flu, and she needed some extra help. I wanted to spend the weekend with you, but I couldn’t say no to her. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Potter. I barely noticed you were gone, after all.” Draco used his best indifferent tone, but Potter snorted anyway.

“In that case, maybe you don’t wanna know what I was doing before I came here.”

Draco stood and walked towards his own bed. “You’re free to do whatever you want, Potter. I don’t know why it would concer–” Draco turned, and his heart stopped. On Potter’s stretched hand was Draco’s wand. His first wand. The only wand that was actually his. “I thought… I thought… I thought maybe you couldn’t give it back to me. The Ministry didn’t know anything about it...”

“I never told them anything about the wands. I’m sorry I didn’t give it back to you sooner. Honestly, with everything that happened, I forgot. I wish I had a better excuse.”

“You’re saying I can have it back? For certain? Don’t fool with me, Potter.”

“Of course! Come here get it, it’s yours!”

Draco crossed the room and took the object he had thought about every second since the day Potter grabbed it from him, and which he was certain he’d never see again. He started to cast spell after spell, laughing and crying, too happy to remember anything else.

When he finally could believe it, Draco stared at Potter. The other boy was again looking at him as he was a broom.

“Why are you looking at me like this? Is this all a prank? Why are you doing this for me?”

“You’re really paranoid, Jesus. Besides the fact that I testified on your behalf and believe you deserve a chance, I thought it was quite obvious…” Potter was blushing, and apparently couldn’t decide if he should face Draco or avoid his eyes at any cost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you didn’t have to–”

“I fancy you, you idiot! How can you not have notice it yet?” Potter almost screamed, then, realizing what he have said, blushed even harder, appearing to be trying to disappear in the air.

Draco didn’t even think. He took Potter’s face in hands and kissed him, wand still in hand. Potter didn’t lose any second being surprised, pulling Draco to his bed in an embrace. Draco laid between Potter’s legs, and slipped his tongue inside Potter’s mouth, who reciprocated eagerly. Soon they were a mess of limbs, holding each other tightly. When Draco needed a break to breath, he realized both his hands were grabbing Potter’s hair.

“Where is my wand?” said Draco, sitting on the bed and immediately looking around him. Not finding it on the bed, he bend over Potter to look on the floor on the other side. “Oh, thank Merlin! I can’t believe I almost lost it again so fast.”

“Hey, hey, Draco, just put it on the nightstand, ok? Come back here,” pleaded Potter, pulling Draco’s shirt.

Draco put the wand on safety, but faced Potter instead of laying by his side again.

“What are we doing, Potter?”

“Er... making out?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock,” he couldn’t refrain a smile when saying it. “But really, people are gonna go mad if they found out about us.”

“ _When_ they find out. Look,” Potter sat on the bed, Draco still between his legs, “I really like you. I feel like myself around you, and I don’t really know what that means anymore. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else. I don’t wanna hide it, but I’d also like to just be with you for a while. That’s why I kept my distance from you out of our room. I thought it was ridiculously obvious how I really wanna touch you all the fucking time, and when you smile I–” He blushed again, as he wasn’t kissing Draco like he was a treacle tart minutes ago. “I didn’t know if you liked me, but when you said you liked blokes, I let myself to hope a little. And then it was all I could think about and, and–”

“Ok, Potter. I got it. I’m inevitable.” Draco took Potter’s hand. “So are you. Harry.”

Potter smiled at him again. “I just wanna get to know you, give us a try before people have the chance to bugger us with their unwanted opinions. Is that ok with you? If is not, I can manag–”

“I’m ok with it, Harry. I really don’t think I can handle the wizarding world attention right now.” He laid on the bed and Potter followed, getting comfortable by his side, facing Draco. “So you want to get to know me? The last seven years weren’t enough?”

“We both know the last seven years are nothing compared to what the last seven months did to us, Draco.”

“I really don’t wanna talk about the war. Harry.” It was difficult to call Potter by his first name, but Draco figured that if he kept using it, eventually it’d come naturally.

“Look, we’re gonna have to do it at some time, but honestly I cannot not kiss you right now anymore.”

“You tosser,” but Draco was already leaning forward.

Meeting Harry’s lips again still was something he couldn’t believe was real. Because all he had denied to himself for all those years was shattered when Harry’s tongue slide along his, when Harry bit his lip softly and intently at the same time, when his fingers found Draco’s hair, his nape, his back, and kept going lower and lower, as if Harry, too, was having a shattering of his own. And when his lips found Harry’s neck and collarbone, when he too was pushing Harry closer and closer, until their hips were moving desperately against each other, and they came almost without realizing that was their purpose all along, all of one’s shattered pieces mixed with the other’s in the right place.

***

Draco didn’t remember falling asleep. Harry was spooning him tightly, and there wasn’t evidence of anything sticky, so he assumed the other boy had used a Cleaning Spell on them both.

He was just remembering the reasons for that when Harry woke up, kissing his nape softly.

“Well, I didn’t believe it was possible to sleep even better by your side, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said, chuckling.

But Draco was too worried to laugh. “Did you really mean all you said last night?” he said turning to face Harry.

“Of course. In fact, I was planning on taking you to have lunch at Andromeda’s next Saturday.” Harry seemed to remember that Draco had a say on the matter, and added, “If you want you, obviously.”

“I want to. I’ll talk to McGonagall, but I think it won’t be a problem.”

Harry pushed a thread of Draco’s hair from his face, smiling. Draco kissed him fiercely, but pushed away fast, jumping the bed.

“Talking about McGonagall, one more second this close to you and I’ll be late. She wouldn’t be pleased, Potter.”

Harry laughed, also getting off the bed.

“I’ll do my best to not distract you, Malfoy.

 

That night, they fell asleep on Harry’s bed once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are really appreciated! <3


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